


did you see that shooting star, tonight?

by pirateygoodness



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-12
Updated: 2017-07-12
Packaged: 2018-12-01 06:52:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11480991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pirateygoodness/pseuds/pirateygoodness
Summary: A collection of ficlets from Tumblr based on a prompt meme.





	1. kara/lena, stroking hair

It starts out like any other weekend. They’re sitting on Kara’s couch, because Kara has the night off from everything, Supergirl included. There was brunch, and then coffee, and then Lena mentioned that she’d never seen an episode of Friends and Kara’s _not even from this planet_ and she’s seen every single one.

“This show’s not bad,” Lena mutters thoughtfully.

“Not bad?” Kara says. “This show is _iconic_. I mean, I didn’t really get to watch it while it was on TV, but when I first came to stay with my family, it was in reruns all the time.”

Lena frowns, the way she always does when Kara mentions her past. Kara still hasn’t found the right balance of half-truths yet, when it comes to talking about her childhood in front of Lena. The sadness in Lena’s eyes tells Kara that she’s probably assuming the worst. She nudges Lena’s side, trying to change the subject. “I was such a dork, I wanted to get Rachel’s haircut for like a month before Alex talked me out of it.”

Lena tugs at the ends of Kara’s hair, playfully. “I think you could rock a Rachel, if you wanted.”

Kara hears herself laugh in an out-of-body sort of way, too loud and too big. “Yeah, eight years too late.”

“Nevertheless,” Lena says, laughingly. She reaches up and trails her fingertips along Kara’s hairline, then drags them across her scalp and over, combing through.

Kara’s response is instinctive: she shudders into her touch, eyes fluttering closed and it takes every last bit of her self-control to keep herself from sighing. Kryptonite may be her one weakness, but this is a close second.

When Kara opens her eyes, Lena’s watching her with a thoughtful look on her face. She cards through Kara’s hair once more, taking extra care to scratch a little at her scalp, and Kara feels like her whole body shivers. Having her hair played with always makes her so - she doesn’t even know the right word. It’s not sexual or anything like that but it’s _intimate_ , making her feel soft and calm in a way she can’t quite articulate. Melty, like a popsicle on a hot day, like she could just fuse right with the couch if Lena kept playing with her hair like that.

“Sorry,” Kara whispers. “I’m really, um. Sensitive.”

She smiles, like it’s normal. Like she feels normal, and not dreamy and content and really _connected_ to Lena. But then - gosh - Lena smiles back. “You know, as much as I loved Lex, he was terrible for working on my hairdressing skills.”

Lena gestures to the space on the floor in front of her, and Kara sits, settling her back against Lena’s crossed ankles. Lena braids her hair, twisting and combing out and twisting, over and over. Kara listens to Ross and Rachel bicker on the TV, and lets herself float away to the feel of Lena’s touch.


	2. alex/maggie, stroking hair & sitting on someone's lap

Turns out that thing, about all the love songs making sense: it istrue. What’s that Barenaked Ladies line - _she made me feel I was fourteen again_. That, all the time.

She’s supposed to meet Maggie at the bar, but she gets tied up at the DEO and by the time she gets there she’s in desperate need of a shower and Maggie is sitting with Winn. Winn, who did _not_ get stuck at work to end up two hours late for his own date, and judging from the number of empty glasses on the table he and Maggie are at least three rounds in.

Her suspicion is confirmed by the warm, easy way Maggie lights up at her, says, “Hey, Alex.”

They’re sitting at a booth for two, and Alex moves to look for a chair. She’s turned away for three full seconds, more than long enough for Maggie to take advantage. She feels Maggie touch her waist, and then she’s being pulled until she overbalances and lands in Maggie’s lap.

It’s clumsy, and she nearly takes out one of the empty pint glasses on the table, but Maggie catches her. “Glad you could make it,” Maggie says, loud enough for Winn to hear. Then, for Alex’s benefit: “I missed you.”

The words curl around Alex’s heart and squeeze, in the best possible way. They’ve been dating for three months, now. Eventually this has to stop giving Alex butterflies. But then Maggie runs a hand through Alex’s hair, affectionate and a little possessive and Alex feels herself blush.

(It’s not her fault - it gets her thinking about last night at her place, is all.)

(Last night, when she was settled on her knees beside her couch, with her head between Maggie’s thighs - because that’s a thing that just _happens_ to her, now. She’s a person who knows how to get a woman - _her girlfriend_ \- to come, knows how to lick her way into Maggie’s softest places until she shouts. Last night, when Maggie was teetering right on the edge of orgasm and she threaded her whole hand through Alex’s hair and _pulled_ , and it felt so good that Alex almost lost control of her tongue.)

Alex wriggles in Maggie’s lap, trying to get free. “Am I allowed to get my own seat?”

Maggie laughs and kisses Alex’s nose. She’s definitely more than three drinks into the night. “Not until you have a beer, Danvers.”

Somehow, with Maggie’s thighs warm underneath her, and Maggie’s arms around her waist, that doesn’t sound so bad.


	3. alex/maggie, holding hands & kisses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the chapter that properly has an M rating, in case that's important for you to know.

It’s new, but it’s not.

It’s new because _they_ still are - it’s been barely a week since they started dating properly, after all the false starts. It’s not new because they’ve kissed at least twenty-six times since then (likely many more; Alex stopped counting at twenty-six and that was last Wednesday). Alex should probably be over it, at this point.

 

Kissing is not new, but kissing like _this_ is still shiny and exhilarating; stretched out on her back and pinned underneath Maggie, on her couch.

(It started like a date. Or - Alex thinks it was a date. She went over to Maggie’s place for dinner, and there was some movie Maggie was horrified that she hadn’t seen, and they sort of started watching it.

They made it about ten minutes past the opening credits before Maggie started kissing her neck.)

Alex laughs. Or tries to; it gets lost in Maggie’s mouth, open against her own. “What?” she says.

Alex can feel the words against her lips, the soft exhale as she speaks. Maggie’s looking down at her, hair falling in this beautiful curtain around her shoulders, half-in her eyes, deliciously tousled. She’s staring right into Alex’s eyes, and god it’s still intense, it still makes Alex feel open and exposed but in a way that’s starting to feel familiar. She sort of forgets what she was talking about, just for a second, recovers. “Did you ever actually want to watch a movie?” she asks.

Maggie bites her own lip and all of Alex’s blood rushes to her lower abdomen. “I would have.”

Alex leans up and takes Maggie’s lower lip into her mouth, because it’s so _distracting_ when she worries at it like she’s doing. “Why didn’t you just tell me you wanted to do this?” she whispers against Maggie’s mouth. “You wouldn’t have had to cook dinner.”

Maggie’s laugh is a rumble, low and possessive and it makes Alex’s stomach flip. Alex is suddenly very aware of the fact that Maggie’s straddling her hips, of the fact that she’s rolling them against her pelvis and it’s making her feel things, too many things to process all at once.

( _Women_ , her brain manages. _Women are nice. This one is nicest._ )

“You’re telling me you would have come over if I’d said I just wanted to neck on my couch?” Maggie asks. She’s leaning forward, somehow applying pressure against Alex’s hips and kissing her neck _at the same time_ and it’s not fair. “You’re not that easy, Danvers.”

Alex shudders. She can’t tell if it’s the way Maggie says her name - _Danvers_ rolling off her tongue like it’s something familiar - or if it’s got something to do with the way Maggie’s moving her body against her but she’s suddenly breathless, wordless. “You don’t know that,” she whispers, and it’s maybe the last coherent thing she’s going to be able to say tonight, but she’s not going down without a fight.

She’s forgotten about her hands. She - Alex remembers that she _has_ hands, she’s not that far gone. But it’s not until Maggie takes them both in her own that she really _notices_ them, realizes that she’s been missing an opportunity to touch Maggie _back_.

( _Next time_ , she thinks to herself, because they’re dating now, and that means she gets to have a next time.)

Maggie threads their fingers together, and tips forward. Somehow, Alex’s hands end up above her head, Maggie’s fingers entwined with hers and pinning her there. It’s not a hold; Alex knows fifteen ways to free herself, and Maggie’s not trying that hard to keep her still. But somehow it’s _nice_ , being open like that, giving Maggie full access to her body. They haven’t done much more than kissing, than this plus a little bit further, but Alex’s whole body feels like it’s on fire and she wouldn’t mind it if Maggie went a little further still.

“How are you doing, Danvers?” Maggie asks. Her voice is soft, not teasing at all; checking in.

“Good,” Alex whispers. “So good.”

She squeezes Maggie’s hand, and Maggie smiles, the one that’s just for her. It’s new but in the best possible way.


	4. lena/jack, massages

Lena throws her mouse across the desk, as gently as she can muster. It doesn’t get far; she tosses it to the end of its cord and it bounces back against the edge of the desk with a clatter, dragging the keyboard a few inches. It’s supremely unsatisfying, but she’s learned from the microscope incident: real scientists should not need a line item in their budgets for tantrum-related property damage.

She shoves back from the desk, slicks her hair back against her scalp and tries to exhale.

She hears the gentle roll of a chair from Jack’s workstation, the sound of his footfalls against concrete. “Hey,” he says. His voice is so soft, so calming. “What’s wrong?”

Lena sighs. “I’m an idiot, and I’m terrible at this, and _someone_ put in the ridiculous rule that I can’t break the technology just because I’m mad at it.”

Jack chuckles, and she feels his hands settle on her shoulders, the presence of him behind her. “Yes, how utterly irrational.”

Her eyes flutter open and she looks up, sees him smiling down at her. She feels her face break into a grin despite her irritation, despite the fact that she’s wasted three hours of her life plugging numbers into software that won’t do its _stupid_ job.

This is too good. _He_ is too good. She sighs, feels the last of her irritation fall away. The smile lines at the corners of his eyes grow deeper, and she feels her heart start to flutter. “Just one little computer?” she asks.

“To break?” Jack’s hands tighten around her shoulders, thumbs sweeping across the muscles there, following the lines of her trapezius on both sides.

“Please?” Lena asks. “I’ve been extremely good.”

She doesn’t think she’s pouting; not on purpose, anyway. Nevertheless, he coughs, breaks eye contact, as though she’d intended that as an innuendo. Jack doesn’t respond with words. He slides his hands underneath the collar of her shirt at the back, pressing them to the skin of her shoulders, thumbs bookending her neck. She’s perennially tense there, from years of living in Lillian Luthor’s household and hours at her desk, studying, and he knows it.

He presses his thumbs against the back of her head, drags them down across the muscles there, drawing them toward her shoulder blades. It’s _delicious_ , beginning as a sharp ache and ending in a feeling of release, the tension slowly beginning to lessen. “When was the last time you ate something?” he asks.

Now it’s her turn to take an innocent comment someplace untoward, and she feels herself blush just a little before she says, “Breakfast.”

“It’s five at night.”

“It was an extremely hearty breakfast,” Lena says. It’s a lie and they both know it; breakfast was a half a buttered bagel, eaten standing over Jack’s kitchen counter. Now that he’s mentioned it, her body catches up to her, and her stomach growls.

“Go for dinner with me?” he asks. “Give the poor computer a fighting chance?”

Lena can’t help but smile. “A short dinner,” she says, relenting. “And that computer had better smarten up.”

Jack gives her shoulders a reassuring squeeze, kisses the top of her head. “I’m sure it’s learned its lesson.”


End file.
